


Turn Back the Clock

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Kissing, Motels and hotels, Pranking, The future!, lovebirds, off screen kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:00:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1584221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I just needed to blather about why Nothing Personal was so Skoulson-y and why Rag Tag was not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I can't get my head wrapped around this."

Skye just sat at the edge of the bed, in their cheap motel, stared past him.

He was standing there, arms crossed, wearing his Agent face. The concern, the boundary in place, it felt like she'd somehow gone back in time. The way, way back machine.

"Don't look at me like that," she continued, avoiding his gaze. She just wanted him to stop it. Whatever had changed in the last 48 hours, it needed to go away. Now.

Stared through her, or tried to. After all, he'd confronted her. So now, he was thinking, trying to put her in a safe category, open her up. Something that would keep them focused on what they had to do.

"Garrett wouldn't have let Ward die." He decided to start with that. See where it went. "Yes, he played on you not being able to hold responsibility for it, but it was never your choice, Skye. It was Ward, and Garrett's."

Yeah, that made sense. Good point, really. That wasn't the problem. The problem was she wasn't really much of a SHIELD agent. She wasn't "the Calvary" like May. She couldn't just wait for the ultimate revenge and store up hatred like a battery. In fact, she was dreading confronting Ward, because she knew, she *knew*, she couldn't do him, no matter what he did.

She didn't have what it would take. And Coulson had announced it in front of everyone, "You had compassion. That's harder."

Like she was a schoolgirl.

"I don't want to have compassion," she said, finally turning towards him. Here it comes. "I'd love to be able to put 'two in the back of his head'," she spat. "Because the world would be a safer place."

Coulson just let her continue.

"People like me," she started, and the angry tears started coming, "Get people killed."

He felt his calm facade begin to melt away. No, he though, no, no, no. This was the problem. He had work to do, and it was revenge, Fitz was right. It was revenge, and that just might get him killed. Because, he was pretty far gone. They were the underdogs. For pete's sake, they were using spycraft from the 40s along with their plucky wits, and what chance did they have? He just couldn't let go of it, what Ward and Garrett had done. What HYDRA had done. What HE had done. 

"You're right," he said, turning away from her, blinking. This was safer. He could leave now and just walk back to his room. May would come by, he could just be like he was before. Before TAHITI, before Skye. Turn back the clock.

She glared at his back as he shut the door. Then, reached for her laptop. She pulled up the readouts to see if her Trojan Horse had added anything helpful, anything new.

 

***

 

"The only decent thing they had was Jack Daniels," he said apologetically. He closed the door behind him, and brought the plastic cups and ice with him over to the small table.

May looked at him, grinning, "I've had worse."

"Yes, yes we have." His eyes lingered on her, while taking off his jacket and tie, throwing it aside, flopping down in a chair.

"May I?" she asked, and when he nodded, she poured him a drink.

"We deserve it," she said, lifting her glass in a mock toast. "Not everyday you survive a full-on CENTIPEDE assault."

"I think you and the Berserker staff are friends for life," he grinned. "I knew all it would take was for you to get that away from him."

She looked at Coulson over the rim of the glass and then tossed it back.

"When in Rome?" he tossed back his own glass, challenging, began pouring them both another. May's eyebrows furrowed.

"Hey," she said, looking at him seriously. "You want to tell me what's really going on?"

He swallowed. This is not what he expected. Not where he wanted this conversation to go.

"Not really," he said coldly, and got up. She just stared at him, waiting. So, he went for his jacket.

"Phil, hold on," she said, already up and her hand on his arm, stilling him.

"I see what you're doing..." she started. "And that would be so, easy..." she stopped herself. He looked at her pleadingly. "But, you can't go backwards."

Shit. 

"You need to go forward," she said. "Whatever that looks like. But don't go backwards," she said, deadly serious. "Because, I won't."

There was a lingering silence, and then he grabbed her, kissed the top of her head, and walked out.

 

***

 

Skye craved freedom. Needed to slip into the stream of the everyday. She had lived in motels before, but now the motel felt as confined as the Bus. She wanted to be missionless. Just for a few hours.

Sliding her backpack over her shoulder, she swung open the hotel door to find...

Coulson. Standing in front of her, hand out to knock. His jacket slung over his shoulder, looking a bit of a rumpled mess.

She narrowed her eyes, demanding that he remove himself with a look.

He did not get the message. Instead, he awkwardly began talking, more than he usually did.

"You don't get people killed. What you do is give people a second chance. And sometimes a third, and I realize that I'm on my third right now, and that I don't know what I'm doing at all..."

She just rolled her eyes and pushed past him, just not willing to deal with it right now.

"Skye, I need you." He finally said, just as she was at the gate.

Turning around, she just stared at him. He shrugged. 

"Sorry," he said. "I don't have anything more profound. But, can we talk about it? I'd like to be more profound."

Ugh. He was doing that thing he always did. That thing that could only sound so absorbingly attractive on 50-year-old Coulson. She looked up at the sky, at the stars, gritted her teeth. The Universe was having a laugh at her. 

"You get five minutes," she said.

He only needed two.


	2. All Through The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Skye just talk and talk through the night.

She woke up next to him. To the sound and feeling of him shifting. The feel of his weight stirring right next to her. So, so close.

They'd fallen asleep on top of the covers. She'd managed to kick off her shoes and and toss her jacket on the floor. He'd fared about the same.

Sitting up on one elbow, she squinted and looked at the light outside, not sure what time it was. She sighed. This had been so tender, but so frustrating.

He'd wanted to talk about the future. She had said they might not have one once they went after Garrett and Ward. He said he'd rather believe for that future, than letting someone he loved so dearly know just how much he meant that in a cheap motel room. Very Coulson.

That was, of course, after they had kissed wildly on nearly every surface of the room that would support them. (Okay, maybe not *every*, but still.)

She was backtracking it in her mind, enjoying the memory, trying not to laugh a bit at the whole thing.

"You get five minutes," she'd said, and began walking toward him.

He held the door open, closed it behind them.

Crossing over to stand at a distance, she waited for him to say whatever he was going to say. She owed him that much, at least. And she kind of wondered if anyone had heard them arguing out by the pool, and him making declarations. But, no matter.

"When I died and came back," he said, "I felt different. But I also felt in the dark. Everyone was acting strange, handling me with kid gloves, like I might break. I guess that is possible," he said to himself. "But!," he resumed, "But! I thought they were just being sensitive, given the circumstances. Turns out, they were all lying to me."

"Yeah," she responded. A lot had changed. For the both of them. He'd showed her the video May had dug up. She'd be lying if she denied that it had made her feel ill.

He couldn't really read her expression, so, he said, "All of that to say, you walked into my life, the only unknown, and *still* the only unknown," he said, "And I realized for the first time in my life, I really had a second chance," he paused. "This is what freedom feels like." He looked over at her. "And I love you for that," he said, emotion creeping in, "...in so many ways, I can't even..."

Skye didn't have to hear anymore. She plowed right into him with a happy sigh of, "Phil," and kissed him before he could even finish the thought. It was brief, but sweet, full of meaning. 

"Do I still need to say stuff? Because, I do have more," he said earnestly, "But, frankly, I'd rather do this," he kissed her back, his hands on either side of her face, then picking her up bodily and pushing her against the wall.

Wow. I mean, she'd thought about him, what it would be like. This? This was better. He trickled kisses down her neck, "We," she started breathlessly, "...have a lot of catching up to do." She pulled his face back towards her, locked eyes with him, deepened the kiss. That got a wonderful sound out of him. A very un-Coulson-like sound, that thrilled her. Followed by him pushing everything in him against her.

"Come here," she said, tearing away from him and grabbing him by the hand, leading him towards the bed.

It was like hearing the sound of brakes grinding to a halt. He let go. He was there. She was here. The pause button had been pushed.

"Skye," he said, his chest rising and falling, hair all over the place. He kind of looked like he had in Lola, after they'd almost fallen to their deaths. She looked at his eyes and at his mouth, like she had then. Was he CRAZY?!

"Yes!" she said, "Yes!"

"No."

Ugh. And so they talked. After she had rolled her eyes, hair all a mess (he thought she looked a lot like that day they'd almost died in Lola), she just let herself fall down on the bed. Arms akimbo, staring at the ceiling.

"When this happens," he said, laying his jacket gently over the nearby chair, "And I really think it should happen," he continued, taking off his tie and laying it atop the jacket, "It's not going to be in a place where I have to fight over the bacon at the free breakfast buffet."

"Better get used to it," she said laconically. "We're homeless."

"Yeah? Let's talk about that for a moment," he said, and flopped down next to her on the bed, making it bounce. He had to catch himself so he didn't fall off. Her eyes said all that needed to be said.

"That's not my long-term plan. What kind of guys are you used to dealing with?" he asked sincerely.

Skye pursed her lips, "I usually just think about how to get through the day."

He turned on his side, touched her cheek lightly, turned her face towards him gently, "The good you want to do," he said, "The good that's inside of you, whatever it takes, I'm going to make sure that 'just getting by' is not an option."

She bit her lip, why did this have to happen now? Why couldn't they just go run off someplace together, to the REAL Tahiti, and all of this SHIELD and HYDRA stuff be damned?

"I've seen what you can do. I've seen who you are. And, us? We're going to change the world."

She leaned forward and kissed him softly.

"What if we die tomorrow, Phil?"

He took a deep breath, pushed a stray hair off her face. "If we die tomorrow, everything, *everything*, in my heart will have wanted nothing but the best for you. And if we live, everything in my heart..."

She kissed him again. He knew what she was saying. He kissed her back.

They'd gone back and forth like that all night. And now, it was daylight.

Skye looked over at him, sleeping. She thought about poking him to see if he was really awake. Instead, she gently ran her hand over his hair, smiling when he stirred a bit, let out a small sigh.

This whole thing was insane. She was in love with a 50 year-old-dude who was her boss, number one, and who probably had a crapload of enemies and his own little laundry list which would take a lifetime to unravel. 

Yep, the only cure for this was to go secure his bacon at the buffet.

Rolling off the bed gently, she went for the hotel key and the jacket. Looked back at him.

"Don't," he said, as she started for the door.

Oh, so he was awake.

He sat up on the bed, rubbed a hand across his face. He looked beat, she tried not to laugh a bit. He'd obviously caught her smile.

"What?" he asked.

The sight of him rumpled and looking beat and with that totally adorable smirk he wore whenever they talked one-on-one, oh yes, she recognized that now, was making her want to push him over and start last night again. Two. Point. Oh.

"We're going out for brunch," he said, getting up from the bed. "My treat."

Skye put the hotel key back on the table. Took off her jacket. 

"In that case," she grinned, "I"d better freshen up."

 

***

"Ritz-Carlton Concierge Desk," the man announced with a flourish, "How may I be of service?"

"Yes," said the male voice on the other line. "We are Mr. and Mrs..." There was a pause. Maybe a giggle? He wasn't sure. "Lee," he continued, "Our vehicle was struck by lightning last night, and I'm afraid that we've become...st-t-randed..."

"I'm sorry, sir, are you alright?" asked the concierge. He held the receiver away from his ear when what sounded like laughter and a loud rustling noise filled it.

"Yes," said a female voice suddenly, "I'm sorry, my husband is VERY upset about the state of his car."

Oh good. Someone calm.

"We wandered if we could get room service delivered to our current location?" she asked. Very sweetly. Too sweetly.

"And where is that?" asked the concierge curtly.

"The Vagabond Inn," she said, with a snort.

"I see."

He checked the computer. They *did* have two guests registered under Lee staying on the premises. He called the room. No one answered. The Lees stayed here frequently, and they *were* Platinum Elite Members. Very well.

"We would be happy to accommodate you and assist you with your vehicle. I will transfer you to room service now and they will take your order."

"You are too kind!" she said, enthusiastically.

As he prepared to transfer the call, he heard whispered...

"And extra bacon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The motel listed is the motel where AoS episodes "Nothing Personal" and "Ragtag" were actually shot.


End file.
